


Everybody Deserves A Second Chance, He Said

by merrills



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-11-03 18:20:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17882867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merrills/pseuds/merrills
Summary: After his trial in front of the Skyhold court, Blackwall is angry and being held in suspense by the Lady Inquisitor on multiple accounts. He was pardoned, but was he forgiven?With all of his emotional turmoil, he forgets he is not the only wounded party in this ordeal. And his actions have lasting consequences for some.





	Everybody Deserves A Second Chance, He Said

Blackwall had been wondering when she would call for him. He knew that the Inquisitor was a woman of few words in public, and his trial in front of the Skyhold court had been short. His attempt to get a rise out of her on several accounts had been unsuccessful. He had been angry that day, after having been spirited out of his cell in Val Royeaux and stewing in his resentment for days on his way to Skyhold, and then another night in the castle’s dungeon. Any other poor sod would have been grateful for a second chance at life, but Blackwall specifically had decided that his life was worth less than doing the right thing.

He didn’t regret criticizing the hypocrisy of his release. Not even having done it in front of Lady Montilyet’s oh so fancy nobles. But he did regret doing it in part to spite the Lady Inquisitor.

_“I am just a man with his heart laid bare. I leave it in your hands.”_

Even though he had held his gaze fixed upon her face, he had seen her chest rise and tremble as it receded. He didn’t know what to make of it, still didn’t, and her expression had been so hard to read. It was clear that it had taken the Inquisitor considerable effort to not let her composure slide. There had been a hardness behind her eyes, and a stiffness in her facial muscles. A small shaking. Almost like a cramp.

_“You are getting ahead of yourself, Captain Rainier. Return to your post to await your orders.”_

It had been three days since. And still there were no orders. At first, Blackwall had spent his time simply sitting in the barn, contemplating everything that had happened. Turning and spinning the latest events in his mind until they stopped making sense. Then he went further back in his memory. His years in the wilderness, the actual Warden Blackwall, his flight, and lastly, the cursed slaughter of the family. The gold he took and the promise he made, for something so insignificant and yet horrifying. It almost felt like it was a different person who had made that decision, and yet it was him today still carrying that guilt.

He re-evaluated everything. The conclusion he came to was that his own execution, ultimately, wouldn’t have saved that family, nor his soldiers. He couldn’t make that right, not ever. But seeing that he was alive now, it was his duty to further counteract the evil he had placed in the world by working harder towards the Greater Good. Starting first and foremost by taking down the Darkspawn Magister.

There was a thought, just a tiny sliver of a suspicion… that maybe, possibly, the Lady Inquisitor would agree. That that was the reason she had snuck him out from under the headsman’s axe. That she saw something in Thom Rainier, some potential, as Warden Blackwall had all those years ago. Wrapped under all those layers of darkness, maybe she saw how desperately and recklessly he was trying to be better, to do better. And maybe, just maybe, there was hope she still held tender feelings for him.

The evening this occurred to him, on this second day, he felt nothing but affection for the Inquisitor. This feeling of unparalleled, idealistic warmth eclipsed anything else he would have felt. And it prompted him to finally leave the barn and make his way to Skyhold’s tavern.  
But as soon as he entered and people started recognizing him, he fled back to the safety of his lodgings. The thought of running into the Inquisitor here seemed bizarre, almost perverse. He knew she liked to spend time there with Iron Bull, with Sera, Cole and Dorian. It felt like he was invading a safe space of hers with his dirt. Guilt came rushing back.

What if she had come in while he was sitting at the bar, drinking ale like there was nothing wrong? Would she think he wasn’t taking the situation seriously?

The next morning Blackwall noticed that he couldn’t remember seeing Bull at the tavern. He had not been in his usual spot, and neither had been his first in command. He was suddenly worried that those orders the Inquisitor had announced were not going to come. That he had been freed, that he had pledged his sword, only to be kept on the bench for the remaining entirety of the war.

_I am not a Grey Warden, not even a pretend one anymore. I have no claim to a fight with darkspawn._

Nevertheless he got angry. He felt himself spiral into doubt. Whatever lovesick lunacy had prompted him to believe that the Lady Inquisitor still believed the best in him now came back to taunt him; shame took over. It was only after exchanging a few words with Dennet that he was reassured. No party had left Skyhold, aside from a few scouts on their way to explore some oasis near the Western Approach.

That should have calmed him down, but it didn’t. Day three after his judgement, Blackwall spent from late morning to early evening hammering away at the wooden Griffin toy in a frenzy. The emotional turmoil of the past few days coupled with his overall frustrations with himself, the world, and his (possibly former) relationship demanded action. He was impotent. His order had been to hold his position and await new orders, which hadn’t come.

This was the longest the Inquisitor had spent in Skyhold since first setting up. Not counting her trip to Val Royeaux, it was going on three weeks without going off to fight evil. At this point Blackwall would have welcomed an attack on Skyhold, simply to have something other than wood to hack away on.

The sun was just disappearing behind the mage’s research tower, rendering the lower courtyard dark and cold, when for the first time in days somebody besides Dennet entered the barn.

The sudden darkness played a trick on him, and so Blackwall at first took the Lady Inquisitor for a messenger when he looked up from the Rocking Griffon. With all his thinking and overthinking, he had not thought of what to say to her once he’d be in front of her again. And least of all had he expected for her to come to him, rather than send a messenger.

“My lady,” he finally said.

He watched her tilt her chin downwards, then softly jerk to the side and back to the middle. As if she were gonna say something but then decided to hold it back.

“How shall I refer to you now? Rainier or Blackwall?”

Blackwall stepped away from the table and turned his body to her. Another thing he hadn’t considered. He had just point-blank assumed that he would have to go with his given name now that his history had been exposed. But it felt strange to think of himself with his old name. There was… too much ballast.

“I’ve gotten used to ‘Blackwall’,” he replied, with as steady of a voice as he could muster. “Perhaps we could treat it as less of a name and more of a title. Almost like ‘Inquisitor’. Reminds me of what I ought to be.”

There was no reaction from her, and Blackwall felt his guts turn heavy as lead.

“Follow me then, Blackwall.”

The entire way through the lower courtyard, up the stairs to the upper courtyard, up the stairs to the main hall, through the door by the fancy chair, up the stairs to her quarters, and then finally through the chamber to her desk, neither the Inquisitor nor Blackwall talked. And it felt damned silly to him. As if his mother was pulling him by the ear.

He took position in the middle of the room, quite a few feet of distance between himself and the Inquisitor, who was half sitting on her desk, arms crossed. They looked at each other for a few moments before she began to talk.

“We are moving out to the Emerald Graves tomorrow morning, once again. After Halamshiral we finally have time to follow up on Cullen’s leads on Red Lyrium smuggling and the origin of the Red Templars. It’s been three weeks since our last mission, everybody has had plenty of time to recoup. According to my rotation system, it doesn’t matter who I take with me. Everybody is well rested, nobody requires extra time in Skyhold. I could take anybody with me to the Graves.”

“I see.”

“However I’m not leaving until the issue of you and I has been resolved. Because no matter who I can take with, the person I absolutely _want_ to travel with is you.”

Her expression softened… and the heavy feeling inside of Blackwall lightened. But only a little. Because the stiffness in her expression was not replaced by tenderness, but with a visible struggle.

Blackwall felt despair creep up to him again. She cared for him, still cared for him because otherwise she wouldn’t have come to get him. His lovesick hope was back again, stormier than it had been before. He needed to apologize. Acknowledge that he had done something hurtful. There was hope that she would be able to forgive him, she did pardon him after all. There was hope that she would let him back to her side, to redeem himself by protecting her and watch her back in battle.

“My lady-”

She wasn’t looking at him anymore, though. She raised her hand to stop him, and his previous despair dimmed hope.

“Let me start by saying this was one of the most frightening ordeals I had to go through, second only to facing Corypheus in Haven, and waking up alone in a frozen cave, with the certainty that I was going to die.

“Hearing of your crimes was… unexpected and shocking, obviously. There was much to consider. First and foremost to marry what they said you were back then with the man I thought I knew you to be.”

Whatever she wanted to say next, it got stuck in her throat. And still, her eyes shied away from looking into his. But at last she had fixed them on his chest, just below his chin, rather than looking on the floor, or the wall as before.

“I believe that you deeply regret what you did. What you said in Val Royeaux made that clear. And what you have done in the years following the… incident may not make up for it, but it is also clear that you have been trying to atone for the evil you caused. You worked hard, not only to recruit people for the wardens but also ever since you joined the Inquisition. I have no trouble forgiving you for your crime. But what still does trouble me… is how you left.

“I woke up that morning, and with nothing but that stupid badge beside me. I didn’t know what that meant, and now in retrospect I don’t think it meant anything to begin with.” A slow exhale, and she lifted her gaze to meet his. “Of course, I didn’t immediately think you’d left Skyhold. I thought you needed some time to yourself, I thought you wanted to train, Gods know what I thought. Imagine: it took a whole day and a whole night until I figured out you were gone. When you didn’t come to my quarters that night, I went looking for you with the horses.

“Luckily Leliana is quicker on the uptake than I, she had already searched for you and found that scrap of paper that you took from her files. By then I knew you were in trouble. And I gathered some folks, and dashed to Val Royeaux.”

“I… deeply regret how I left things, my lady. I saw no other way,” Blackwall finally managed to insert.

It was difficult to describe how he had imagined things to go when he left Skyhold. It had been a pendulum between how it should be, how he wanted it to be, and lastly repressing his fantasies and pondering regarding that topic. Lest he’d lose his resolution and turn back.

How he wanted it to be was for Thom Rainier to die in the noose. Nobody back in Skyhold knew Thom Rainier, nobody cared about Thom Rainier. Blackwall had been dead for years at that point. The pretend Warden Blackwall would stop existing the moment Rainier decided he wasn’t him. Nobody would know. Had he had more time to put the report back to where he found it, the Nightingale wouldn’t have been able to trace him he was sure.

Blackwall would have disappeared, and the Inquisitor would be forced to move on. There would be no time or resources for a fruitless search for a man who had not existed in years. But she would have the badge, the reminder of what him and her had had.

In the brief moments when he had allowed himself to fantasize, he had imagined his love to cherish the keepsake he left her. After she’d save Thedas, she’d hold it in her hands and remember the noble man she used to love. With sorrow, but also with tenderness.

“No other way, really? You took me to that ruin, to get _that thing_. That would have been a good time,” she snarked spitefully. “Or, you know, any of the times we talked about your past. I damned well asked about it often enough. You spent whole nights in my quarters. And still, _nothing_.”

Her challenging demeanor raised his defensiveness. Blackwall straightened his back.

“I took you to the ruin to tell you the truth about me. I lost my nerve, and I failed. I apologize for that.”

The stiffness of his delivery did him no credit. This was the exact opposite of what he had hoped for. And obviously, the opposite of what the Inquisitor had hoped for as well; she averted her gaze, disappointment clearly etched into her face. A heavy silence stood between them. It was near unbearable.

“What became of Mornay?” Blackwall finally asked to break the awkwardness.

“He did not end up hanging, if that’s what you want to know,” she replied with cold detachment in her voice. “I had Josephine arrange for his discreet release. It cost the Inquisition a pretty sum, but he is now in a small town in Ferelden and in our employ. It remains to be seen what talents he has that can be put to use, but he is anonymous and safe. Thanks to our _corruption_ , as you put it.”

That stab may have been deserved, and Blackwall knew better than to argue. He still stood by what he had said at the trial, but this was not about that.

“I meant what I said,” he insisted softly. “I regret not having told you about my past before.”

He watched her shake her head, facing him again. She looked so tired all of the sudden.

“I understand why you might not have told me. I understand it all, logically. I understand why you went off to do what you did. I understand why it was the right thing to do. I understand why you didn’t tell me beforehand. I understand why you didn’t explain to me who you really were. I understand now why you pushed me away.

“But knowing it, and feeling it are two different things. You made me so _fucking angry_. I can’t believe you did that to me.”

Those last words came out as a croak, and in spite of himself, that sound brought tears to Blackwall’s eyes. He stepped forward, urged to embrace his love. Once again, she lifted her hand. And again, that painfully upheld composure in her face. Only now he knew what that meant.

“I can’t believe you wanted me to think you abandoned me. I can’t believe you would’ve preferred for me to find out about your death after the fact. I can’t believe that had I not chased my horse - _and everybody else’s_ \- half to death, I might have come just in time to see your feet kicking in the air. That is the most frightening part. Had i left a day later, or even just a few hours, you would be dead.” The Inquisitor took a step, two. “Having left me _nothing_ but that _fucking badge_ and _so much anger and guilt_. How _dare_ you?”

Blackwall had the good sense to duck, otherwise the Medal of Valor would have hit him square in the face.

Whatever brief righteous resistance or justification had held in his mind was gone by now. The full weight of the hurt he had inflicted sank down on his back, and his knees gave in.

Blackwall hadn’t wanted to think about on his way to Val Royeaux. It had been easier to detach himself from the emotional consequences, and to cloud what he would leave behind in an impenetrable mist.

And whether it was seeing Blackwall on his knees, humbled, or her finally having said what she’d wanted to say, but the Inquisitors face finally, finally, lost its hardness. Oh, there were still those wet streaks running down her face. But the hurt had left it.

“It seems I have one more sin to atone for,” Blackwall said hoarsely.

Exhausted, she let her head hang. She took a long, deep breath, and then straightened herself again.

“Take off your clothes.”

“Pardon?”

To Blackwall’s surprise, the Inquisitor started unbuttoning her doublet. All the while establishing and not breaking eye contact. Slowly, he brought forward his one foot, and then raised himself into a stand.

“My lady…-”

Still working down her doublet, she started kicking off her left boot. The doublet fell to the carpet, her right boot followed. Confused as all hell, Blackwall couldn’t do much but stay silent while his love stripped out of her pants too. Hesitantly, he in turn started to copy what she was doing. Was she going to…-

But no, the Inquisitor walked right past him in nothing but her smallclothes, leaving her formal wear on the floor where she’d dropped it. When Blackwall turned around, she was climbing into her bed and covering herself with the thick down blanket. From where he was standing, he couldn’t even see her head anymore.

This was by far the most confusing moment of his life. What was the purpose of all this?

After a moment’s hesitation, Blackwall decided that this was probably a sign that his audience was over. He hadn’t gotten too far with the undressing; his doublet was open, showing the linen shirt underneath. Awkwardly, he started moving towards the stairs when he stopped dead in his tracks.

“ _If you leave this chamber right now it’ll be the last time you see it from the inside_.”

Blackwall turned to look at her. She’d sat up in her bed, and was now glaring at him. The suppressed anger was back in her eyes and an aura of childish spite from earlier enveloping her again.

_It seems I have one more sin to atone for._

The Inquisitor sank back on her pillow, out of his line of sight. A sadness took hold of him, the same sadness he’d felt when hearing her voice break with hurt. And he continued undressing until he was in naught but his smallclothes, same as her. He walked over the the bed, lifting the blanket and joining her under it.

For a moment he didn’t know what to do with himself. She was laying on her side, with her back to him. But once again she took action. Reaching backwards towards him with her free arm, she told him what she wanted. And Blackwall obliged. He moved closer to her, grasping her hand and hugging her from behind. She guided his hand to her stomach, and made him hold her close.

It was quiet in her chambers, aside from a the flapping of wings outside of the open balcony doors. By now the sun had vanished behind the mountain range, and darkness set in. Had Blackwall been facing the windows, he’d’ve seen wisps of different shades of blue and pink coloring the sky. But he wasn’t, he was facing the wall behind the stairs.

It was still for a long time before the Inquisitor broke the silence, her tone conversational.

“The night before you left, you claimed you loved me.”

“That I did.”

“Is that still true?”

Blackwall shifted uncomfortably. “It is. If you would have me.”

Thoughtful silence resumed.

“If that’s true, you will stay and help me with all this.”

He felt his chest was ready to burst, once again filled with devotion and hope and love.

“I vow to you I will. Whatever it may be, darkspawn, templars, dragons or Corypheus himself. I will stand by you and see you safely through everything, I promise.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Blackwall was about to pull his arm off her to raise himself on his elbow, but she clasped her hand around his and insistently moved it back to its original position.

“You broke my heart, and you will help me mend it. Having lost you once, I don’t want to do it again. You mean too much to me.” A heartbeat’s pause. “I love you.”

There were no words to describe what he felt. Instead of saying something, he pressed himself closer to her.

“I don’t know what a sorry bastard like me has done to deserve-”

“Shut up.”

And so he did.

The next day, the Inquisition party moved out to the Emerald Graves - with Blackwall. He was met by his other party members with cautious awkwardness, and by the Lady Inquisitor with decisive coolness.

Blackwall had spent the night in her chamber, with his arms around his tucked-in lover in a soft bed. That was worth all the unpleasantness of the following day.

The night had not been without an incident, though. She’d awoken once, grunting and thrashing around. And Blackwall felt a pang of guilt when realizing that this had never happened before. She hadn’t lied; this whole ordeal had done a number on her.

The Inquisitor, interrupted in her sleep, had harshly refused any and all soothing words and hands. She had wrapped herself in the blanket and stood out on the freezing balcony for longer than could have been good.

Blackwall had wanted to follow, but -perhaps cowardly- had decided against it. Her earlier rejection had stung, he had to admit, and he worried she might send him away if he followed. And just as he’d decided to go for it, she came back, laid down, pressed a kiss on his hand and went back to sleep, still holding it.

A part of him worried that his lady’s coolness the first day of the journey was to be attributed to her lingering anger towards him. But in moments when the party naturally split up for a few minutes, her eyes found his and showed warmth. Subtle touches and reassuring looks fed hope. And besides, she’d never been of the overly affectionate sort in public.

Moving through the Emerald Graves, closing rifts, doing Good. Slowly, the former pretend Warden started feeling closer to what resembled ‘himself’ again. Only now he could explore what that truly meant to him.

But helping to restore order, and working to save the world, seemed a good start to him. A second chance worth having.

**Author's Note:**

> Just quickly for context: I wrote this because I was unhappy with how Revelations affected the Blackwall romance. What, either he is completely forgiven and absolved of everything, or broken up with? 
> 
> Nope, I believe things would be more complicated. And hence this fic. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it, any type of feedback is appreciated.


End file.
